


Lord Renly's Flight

by Bow_Ties_Are_Cool



Series: Renly Baratheon [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-25
Updated: 2018-08-25
Packaged: 2019-07-02 11:33:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15795672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bow_Ties_Are_Cool/pseuds/Bow_Ties_Are_Cool
Summary: Renly Baratheon's last night in King's Landing. After returning from King Robert's fatal hunting trip, Renly decides that he must take drastic action in order to save his life.





	Lord Renly's Flight

“Lord Eddard. A moment, if you would be so kind.”

“As you wish.”

“Send your men away.” _Such a crucial conversation must not be overheard_. Stark acquiesced to his request but the weary grey wolf made no move towards him; it was Renly who approached the middle ground, standing now in the centre of the bridge with the dry moat between them. _Surely Lord Stark will see reason_.

Becoming acutely aware of Ser Boros and Ser Preston standing nearby, _the ever-present Kingsguard_ , he lowered his voice.

“That letter. Was it the regency? Has my brother named you Protector?” Not bothering to wait for a reply, for the lack of surprise on Stark’s long face was confirmation enough, he continued, “My lord, I have thirty men in my personal guard, and other friends beside, knights and lords. Give me an hour, and I can put a hundred swords in your hands.”

“And what should I do with a hundred swords, my lord?”

“Strike! Now, while the castle sleeps.” Looking tentatively at Ser Preston, Renly dropped his voice to a whisper. “We must get Joffrey away from his mother and take him in hand. Protector or no, the man who holds the king holds the kingdom.” Stark stared at him coldly, eyes narrowed. “We should seize Myrcella and Tommen as well. Once we have her children, Cersei will not dare oppose us. The council will confirm you as Lord Protector and make Joffrey your ward.”

"Robert is not dead yet. The gods may spare him. If not, I shall convene the council to hear his final words and consider the matter of succession, but I will not dishonour his last hours by shedding blood in his halls and dragging frightened children from their beds."

Renly stepped back aghast. _He’s going to get us killed._

"Every moment you delay gives Cersei another moment to prepare. By the time Robert dies, it may be too late…for both of us."

“Then we should pray that Robert does not die.”

“Small chance of that.”

“Sometimes the gods are merciful.”

“The Lannisters are not.” Renly turned on his heel and stormed back towards the tower where his brother lay dying.

 _Eddard Stark, in one night we could have utterly broken the Lannisters’ stranglehold on the crown._ But it was not to be. The wintery fool had refused his assistance outright – it seemed he did not have the nerve to strike when necessary. Renly recalled their disagreements over the fate of the Targaryen girl, and snorted derisively. Robert ought to have had Aerys’ children killed years ago. It was a simple matter, as was this.

His thoughts had now carried him back to the King’s Chamber and as he approached the door it was with his heart pounding violently against his chest. _When Joffrey accedes to the throne, all my influence will count for naught next to Cersei whispering in the boy’s ear_. It was all was unraveling around him. He shook himself. _I’m losing my mind. And if I’m not careful it’ll be my head as well_. Yet at least one option remained.

He crossed the room, wading through the sweltering heat of the twin hearths, and knelt at the bedside. Robert’s bandages were soaked with blood; Renly swallowed, trying not to wretch at the smell. The conversation with Lord Eddard again played on his mind. _Hand of the King and Protector of the Realm – Stark has been handed all the power but he will not reach out and take it_. It was obvious to him that the Northman had no taste for intrigues, yet Renly had so desperately needed his support.

“Your friend is foolish, brother. He has chained himself to his precious honour; every way he turns he is constrained by it. He is an honest man though, and goodhearted.” Then Loras’ voice interrupted his thoughts, as it so often did. _Honesty is no excuse for stupidity_.

“Well, did you think of that when you brought him down here, brother?” Renly continued, as if somehow the king had also heard the voice in his head. “Did you think at all?” He let out an exasperated laugh and squeezed Robert’s hand in a display of affection that his brother would certainly not have abided. “Of all the foolish decisions, this one certainly ranks among the worst.”

Renly sat quietly now beside his dying brother as the image of a fat drunkard fell away and Renly saw again the man he had once idolized; tall and muscular, with his great war hammer – Robert had been the very picture of a king. Whenever the child lord of Storm’s End came to visit the capital, his eldest brother had always greeted him with such warmth and bravado, where Stannis was cold and curt. All the while that Renly was in the city, Robert would organize hunts and tremendous feasts in honour of his favourite brother. Of course Stannis would scowl and grind his teeth at the extravagance, and the other two brothers would mock him cheerfully for it. Renly sighed. In his memories Robert was always laughing.

At that moment Robert stirred and coughed up a smattering of blood onto the sheets _. The milk of the poppy is wearing off; Pycelle gave him too light a dose_. Whether that was on purpose Renly could not tell. The man was old and it certainly seemed as though his wits were leaving him, but Renly had never been quite so sure of that. _Pycelle’s loyalty lies with House Lannister – another one of their many pawns…_

Renly opened the door and ordered one of the chambermaids to summon Maester Pycelle. Soon the aged man shuffled into view and brushed past Renly to Robert’s bedside. He poured a vial of pale liquid into the king’s mouth, chains clinking all the while.

The king slept peacefully now; he would not be stirring again.

 

* * *

 

Renly stood and bid a silent farewell to his brother, the vestiges of a once powerful and vibrant king.

He half-walked half-jogged through the Red Keep, slowing only to smile gravely at the odd passer-by who, in return, would offer their condolences and wish his brother a swift recovery. Golden lions leered at him from the wall tapestries, but he pressed on. With the door to Loras’ chambers now in sight he broke into a run and burst in without knocking.

“Pack!” he exclaimed breathlessly.

Loras was, as usual, unsurprised by Renly’s abrupt entry and looked up from the letter he had been reading. Loras’ chestnut brown hair fell in unruly curls about his face and shoulders. He was dressed in a rich green tunic adorned with golden roses, but the warm smile he wore vanished at Renly’s words.

“Take what you can, Loras. The rest will need to be left. There’s no time to waste laden with luggage. Summon all the men you can trust and meet me in the courtyard within the hour.”

“W-what…why?” was all the response Ser Loras Tyrell could manage.

“There was an accident,” he explained. “A boar… stuck Robert in the belly. He is not long for this world. Stark has been named Lord Protector – I _knew_ Robert would do that – but he’s not going to be any use to us. I offered Stark my help in securing the Red Keep but he refused.” Now Renly was talking to himself more than Loras. “Damned fool! Stark is too far from home. He has no power here, no matter what his letter says…Robert was his shield and mine.”

“What about Margaery and King Robert? My father is on the verge of permitting her to join us at court.”

Renly shook his head solemnly. Their scheme lay in tatters at their feet. Renly and Loras planned to have Robert wed the girl. Once his brother had set aside Cersei and her children, the Lannister influence would be all but gone from court. Loras, who was always so self-assured, now looked a little lost. Renly regained his composure and walked over to sit beside him. When he saw that Loras’ letter was penned in Margaery Tyrell’s florid script, his heart sank even further. _It might have worked, if we had more time_.

Loras brushed his hand across Renly’s cheek, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear. “I am so sorry to hear about your brother. What will you do?”

“I simply don’t have the strength to act alone,” he sighed. “I will not be short of allies once I am among my bannermen… But I must tell you more of all this later, Loras, when we are on the road away from here; any further delay could spell disaster.”

Loras swore loudly but did not object. "Well, unlike Cersei Lannister I do not wish to see your head on a spike. We shall leave this place.”

A smile tugged hopefully at the corner of Renly’s mouth, in spite of everything. Then he hurried off to his own chambers.

 

* * *

 

All voices were hushed and urgent. The sky was beginning to lighten over the western walls as they waited in the courtyard. Renly could see Loras a few yards away hoisting himself up onto his mount, shooing away the squire impatiently.

Renly had decided not to wake Brella, who ran his household in the capital. He would have no need of her now. The thought saddened him; she was an endearing character and he was rather fond of her. He wondered what she might be forced to say about him when she was inevitably questioned by the Lannisters, but he put that out of his mind. Instead he had woken Ser Herbert Bolling, the captain of his guard, and told him to summon all of his retainers to the courtyard. _I want everyone saddled and ready to leave within the hour. We will fly no banners and display no sigil. Oh, and Ser Loras Tyrell will be accompanying us_. This last piece of information had not surprised Ser Herbert very much at all.

Sitting at the head of the column Renly shifted a little in his saddle as Ser Herbert rode up to him. The captain was tall and broad, and a brown woolen tunic had replaced his usual bright orange and blue surcoat.

“All is done, my lord.”

Renly offered no response, but spurred his horse onwards and rode for the gate.

 


End file.
